Page 8 of Shining Through

TABITHA AND THE OTHER LADIES’competitors waited rink side. Thursday morning’s short program practice session was to begin at 11:00. It was now 11:17. Out on the ice, Russian men’s competitor, Viktor Domachev and his coach were arguing with one of the audio technicians over a problem with his music.

Peter let out a huff and looked at his watch. “If they’re not off the ice in one minute, I’m going to the officials.”

Silently, Tabitha implored Domachev to leave. Whatever helped Peter’s foul mood was welcome. Tabitha blamed Antigone. Star Spangled Skate started tomorrow, and he still wasn’t satisfied with it. Neither was she.

Not when the competing skaters were as talented, or as driven as these. Antoinette Curtis might not be well-known, but she was a strong jumper, and with the hometown crowd on her side, she’d be a contender. Japan’s ladies’ skaters were among the best in the world. Sixteen-year-old Katia Filipova from Russia had been flawless in yesterday’s practice. A Winter Games season kicked the high stakes up a notch and last time around Tabitha had buckled under the pressure. She was four years older and a more polished skater. But this season demanded more than polish. It demanded brilliance.

Could she deliver?

Peter wandered away to make a phone call, and Tabitha returned to watching Domachev. The lanky skater had been a last-minute replacement for Daniil Andreev, who was apparently in some sort of legal trouble. Though she hadn’t been following the story, according to skating gossip, trouble was nothing new for Andreev.

“Ek-skoos me.” Katia Filipova moved past, not making eye contact. Her round baby face, dotted with acne, revealed nothing except laser-focus on the ice. She stopped at the gate to slip sparkly pink guards from her blades as Viktor Domachev was making his way off. As he came through the gate, he muttered something to Katia. The girl’s eyes widened and her blank expression turned to shock. Domachev chuckled as he walked away.

In that moment, Tabitha saw Katia not as a world-class rival, but as a young girl who’d been harassed by some jerk in his twenties. She hurried after the retreating Domachev. “Wait a minute! What did you say to her?”

He ignored her and kept on walking.

Tabitha’s fists tightened and she stomped across the floor, determined not to let him get away. He wore skates like she did, yet his stride was longer. But damned if she’d let him humiliate a young girl and walk away like it was nothing. “Hey, Domachev! Stop!”

At last, he turned. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “Chto?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you!” She came closer and gestured back toward the ice. “What did you say to Katia? What did you say to that sixteen-year-old girl?”

For a moment, the skater’s expression was blank, and he shook his head, mystified. Bewilderment twisted into arrogance as his gaze flicked upward. His lip curled into an ugly sneer. “Ya ne govoru po pindosski.”He gave an audible sniff, turned and walked away.

Tabitha spoke no Russian, but knew an insult when she heard one. His self-important swagger made her erupt in raw fury. “Don’t you dare walk away from me! Who do you think you are, that you can insult people, and act like it’s nothing? Don’t you care who you hurt?”

“Hey, calm down.” At her side, Peter touched her arm. “You don’t know what he said, not to her and not to you. He’s not worth making a scene.”

Her coach’s low, gentle voice brought her back from the edge. Tabitha realized she’d done exactly that. She glanced around at the bystanders who murmured to one another, gazes averted. Tabitha’s chest rose and fell. A shameful memory spread in a hot flush across her neck and cheeks.

Peter’s knowing gaze locked with hers. His firm grip not only prevented her from charging after Domachev, it kept her grounded in the here and now. “Everything’s okay,” he said, in a soothing voice. “Let it go.”

She’d been trying for years to let it go, but she’d try again. She’d lost control and made a fool of herself. It was possible she’d misunderstood an innocent exchange between Domachev and Katia. She didn’t think so, though whatever had transpired, Katia was unfazed and already skating. There was nothing Tabitha could do. Anger ebbed to a dull ache at the center of her chest. Like Fiona’s Ken, Samara’s Danté, and too many others who’d drifted in and out of their lives, Domachev was just another asshole who thought he could treat women any damn way he pleased.

Just shy of the gate onto the ice, Peter stopped her. “I arranged extra practice time for you with Misha this afternoon,” he said, in a low voice. “The group from the Lake Shosha center has leased freestyle ice at a rink north of here.”

More Russians? Tabitha wasn’t enthused. “Viktor Domachev won’t be there, will he?”

“No. Nor will she,” Peter said, with a nod at Katia who sailed past them, skating her warm-up. “Lake Shosha is best known for pairs. It’s where Carrie Parker and her husband coach.” He tapped his phone. “I sent you the address.”

“You’re not coming?”

He offered a small smile. “Not today. Go work with Misha and have fun. Isn’t that what skating is supposed to be? Fun?”

Not this season. And really, she couldn’t remember the last time it had been. But Peter had given an afternoon’s reprieve. She was happy to take it.

~

The rink was in a neighborhood of turn-of-the-century brick apartment buildings and frame houses. Pumpkins and scarecrows decorated front yards and porches. Crisp red and gold leaves dotted the sidewalk. This was nothing like Los Angeles though it felt like something created by Hollywood— a place where neighbors swapped recipes and childhoods were idyllic.

Again, nothing like Los Angeles.

In the lobby, Misha talked with the French pair who was competing at Star Spangled Skate. Tabitha didn’t know them well, but she loved to watch pairs and ice dance. She envied the partners’ connection. She’d briefly tried ice dance but her instructors and Fiona had urged her to stick with singles, which offered the best chance for a lucrative career.

Misha greeted her with a hug. “We miss you in Delaware. When are you coming back?”

She felt her bright smile slip. “Probably never, since this is my last season.”